


Taking Care Of Him

by shalashaska



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Comfort Sex, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, I know like 3 things about physiotherapy lol, M/M, Massage, Medical Procedures, Oral Sex, both comfort sex and hate sex at the same time somehow do not ask, just savour it man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalashaska/pseuds/shalashaska
Summary: Ocelot is left to look after Kaz during his recovery, while Snake is off in the desert doing whatever it is he does.Kaz is a tsundere bitch.You know the drill.Might be a good fic, might be bad. Idk yet. Canoeing myself further into hell at a leisurely pace.





	Taking Care Of Him

The walk to Kaz’s personal quarters is as dread-inducing as always. If Snake could just make his returns to base more regularly perhaps this could be his responsibility, so Ocelot wouldn’t have to brace himself for Kaz’s complaining every week.

He knocks hard enough on the door that Miller can not ignore him, but quietly enough that he’ll have no real reason to complain about it.

“Come in, Ocelot.” He doesn’t sound happy to see him, but this is nothing unusual.

“You’re as chipper as ever, I see.”

He glares up at his fellow Commander, preparing himself for what is about to happen. His posture is hunched defensively.

“Relax, Miller. Don’t make this difficult.”

He pouts like a boy, but doesn’t say anything. Eventually he gives in and settles into an easier sitting position, allowing Ocelot to take his seat next to him. Gloved fingers delicately fold his t-shirt sleeve up to expose the sensitive flesh underneath. Stitches cave deep into his skin and they are the first item on Ocelot’s list.

As he rubs shallow circles into his shoulder with his fingers, Ocelot allows his eyes to fix on the man’s stump for a while. These scars are particularly unique to Miller, and the absence of such a mandatory body part is something he can’t help but fixate on. He’s an observant man, who finds interest in people’s differences. Being responsible for his physiotherapy also means that he has a certain power over him. He would be lying if he said this wasn't somewhat fun.

“Has the pain been the same?”

Miller nods weakly before explaining. “More or less. It’s a little duller but just as frequent.”

Ocelot hums to indicate that he’s listening, but still seems pre-occupied with the shoulder massage. He hesitates a little, before bringing his thumb to his shoulder blade.

They have been doing this for long enough now that Ocelot knows how he will respond. As he grinds a particular spot along the upper side of his shoulder blade he shudders, teeth clenching hard against each other to hold in the weird little groan he involuntarily makes.

“Sorry, Miller. This is just a part of your treatment.” It isn’t. He trusts Ocelot’s knowledge and the fact that he’s working from the medical unit’s treatment plan, but he doesn’t realise that he’s getting a kick out of his reactions. This particular part isn't even a part of the treatment. He does this not to aid his recovery, but to watch him squirm.

He presses harder this time, so Miller can’t resist the noise that comes out of him. His face is starting to look sick and flushed.

“Ocelot, do you have to do it right there?” Sounding a little strained, Miller wriggles in protest but Ocelot gives him a stern response.

“I can’t stray from the treatment plan, Miller.”

This makes the man shift about a bit less as he tries to stick it out bravely. Despite his intentions he only ends up increasing his anxiety. He understands that if Ocelot notices his growing erection it will make everything extremely awkward. If he wants to maintain a professional relationship this can’t happen.

“Now bring your shoulder forward. Good. And back?” Ocelot resumes with the mandatory stretches he is actually supposed to coach Miller through, not needing to tease him any further. Miller obeys, closing his eyes in an attempt to will his arousal away.

“You’re doing fantastically, you know. I’m not seeing any immediate issues with the joint which looks good for your recovery.” He’s pleased to hear this of course, but very pre-occupied with the fact his cock is still half-hard. He knows what is to come now and that it will be even harder to hide, which only contributes to the sweat coating his skin. “If you’d get onto your back, please.”

Despite not being a double, Miller’s bed is large enough for him to lie down while Ocelot sits beside him. There are certain privileges to being one of the Boss’ favourites.

“Are you comfortable?” Miller nods as Ocelot reaches to lift up his left leg.

Ocelot has been aware of it for weeks. He has been taking a mental note of Miller’s attempts to subtly hide his body’s responses, marvelling at the effectiveness of his erogenous zones. It was not often he saw someone effected so heavily by simple touches.

Gripping Miller’s thigh, he lifts it slightly for better access to the second stump under his calf. Miller tries to hide the fact that this position is getting to him. Ocelot tries to hide how amusing it is to him.

“Easy does it, Miller. Your knee isn’t sore is it?” Miller shakes his head and Ocelot gives him with that same old unsettling smile. “We must be doing well, then. Your prosthetic used to give you a lot more discomfort a couple of months ago.”

Miller shuts his eyes again as Ocelot kneads the slightly reddened flesh of his left leg. While the physical pain is not so bad anymore he can’t help but experience a certain amount of irritation from the pressure of that heavy false leg. As Ocelot’s fingers work the sore limb, he can do nothing but pray that he doesn’t look down at the slight tenting that formed at the front of his shorts.

Ocelot moves one hand further up his leg to massage the tendons around his knee. It’s important to give such an important joint a lot of attention when it’s under so much strain. He bends and unbends it slowly, watching the rise and fall of Miller’s chest as he does. Giving it a gentle twist in either direction, he pulls the leg outward, taking it further away from his slack right leg. Miller flushes brightly as his erection is almost demanding attention.

“Do you feel alright, Miller?” Ocelot looks directly at him in reassurance.

“Sure. It only hurts a bit.”

“You don’t seem to be reacting negatively.”

Miller feels a cold rush of shame as he realises that Ocelot has noticed. Oh, of course he has. He’s been a fool thinking he wouldn’t.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shame turns to embarrassment quickly, manifesting itself as defensive attitude.

“No need to be aggressive, Miller. I’m here to look after you.”

Ocelot is leaning over him and there is no means to escape with such a firm grip on his leg and with the weakness that had settled in his bones since the incident. “And what is THAT supposed to mean?”

Wasting no time explaining, Ocelot rests a hand on his clothed cock, feeling it twitch beneath his touch. He pets it gently, listening to Miller’s whimpers of need. “You can’t hide it from me, Miller. You’ve got needs.” The man below him shoves his face into his inner elbow, flinching under Ocelot’s touch as it becomes a little more assertive. “Have you been able to touch yourself lately, with your afflictions?”

Miller snaps at him. “I’ve got another arm, haven’t I?”

Ocelot laughs, clearly antagonising him on purpose. “Okay, okay. What about your usual exploits?” Now Miller really doesn’t know what to say. “Are you still getting your fix of sexual attention from your subordinates?”

Pouting up at him, it’s clear Miller feels cornered by these questions. Ocelot continues before he can answer. “Maybe they’re too busy pitying you in this state. You’re not back to your old ways yet.”

“Fuck you, Ocelot.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He growls, trying to buck the older man off of him. Ocelot pins him firmly until he’s stopped struggling. “Don’t hurt yourself, now. I’m helping you.”

Miller whines and wriggles under his heat as he breathes against his neck, biting roughly at the skin there that’s already slick with sweat. He licks at him greedily, getting a mouthful of the taste of Miller.

“I haven’t agreed to this, Ocelot.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘stop’, though.”

He punctuates this remark with a particularly sharp bite directly below his Adam’s apple. Miller trembles and sighs, but still curses at him under his breath as he reaches his gloved hands under his t-shirt to grope his stomach and chest.

“You’re going soft, Miller. The muscle here is thinning out. You’ve got a prominent layer of body fat.” He documents each of the changes to him one by one as he squeezes his soft stomach, embarrassing him to a level he hasn’t known to be possible.

“Ocelot, you bastard. You weird mother-fucker.”

He simply hums in response, ducking down to plant delicate kisses around his naval. He reaches up to Miller’s chest, squeezing his pectorals to observe how different they feel.

“You’re softer here, too.” Kaz looks humiliated by this observation, but Ocelot doesn’t look put off by it at all. “I love how you feel in my hands.”

As awful as he feels having every shameful change to his body pointed out to him he can’t help but feel the rush of sensation that comes from having his chest touched this way. The occasional pinch and flick at his nipples only turns him on further. “You’re cute.”

“No. Shut up.”

Ocelot takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks dutifully as he works Miller’s shorts and boxers off of his thighs. With every movement of his tongue against the sensitive bud, he squirms with delight and involuntarily pushes his hips upward into the other man’s grip. The thick leather of Ocelot’s gloves increases the friction of it, only thrilling him further. He asks himself for a moment why he doesn't wear gloves more often for masturbation. It would obviously be more effective.

“You can’t deny that you’re cute and then act like this.” Ocelot ignores his further protests, sticking out his tongue to welcome his length into his mouth.

Miller isn’t even slightly surprised by the man’s skill. There is no way this guy has been a subordinate to Yevgeny Volgin without picking up a few tricks. He also has his suspicions about Ocelot’s own promiscuity around Mother Base, frequently catching moments of conversation between him and members of his unit that didn't seem completely business-related.

He moans at the heat surrounding him, bucking against Ocelot’s face hard enough to hit his nose painfully. Letting his hands curl into the man’s hair, he fucks into him. Ocelot is clearly enjoying himself in spite of Miller’s rough behaviour – in fact, he seems to be getting off on it, his eyes rolling as his throat is relentlessly assaulted. Tears are streaming down his face but his grip on Miller’s hips is tight and assured.

He doesn’t last long, spilling into Ocelot’s needy mouth in only a few minutes. The Russian swallows eagerly, licking up anything that he might otherwise miss and looking up as Miller’s red-painted face. His own dick twitches in his pants as he reaches his own finish.

“Well, do you feel better? You’ve been pent up lately, have you?”

Miller barks at him. “Quit being fucking mean, Ocelot.”

“Me, being mean? You’ve been nothing but hostile to me.” Ocelot kisses the tip of his cock just to add insult to injury. “I've done everything I could to look after you, darling.”

“Ocelot, get the hell out of here.”

“I was waiting for you to say that.”

Boot-heels snapping obnoxiously, Ocelot makes his way out of Miller’s sleeping quarters to head for his own. He’s had his fun for the night.

 


End file.
